Langbain was a mild-mannered gentleman.
Everyone who knew him described him that way.
And whenever he heard such praise, Langbain would respond with a modest smile-which only made him despise his actual occupation all the more: information broker.
Although the Cloak Society operated under all sorts of guises, it was still, at its core, an information brokerage.
Langbain had seen through that long ago.
As one of the Cloak Society's earliest members, Langbain had originally joined simply to make a living. Back then, he had never imagined the Cloak Society would grow and prosper-in his estimation, lasting three or four months would have been a miracle.
Who would have thought it would last fourteen years!
And its reach kept growing.
Yet Langbain still had little faith in the Cloak Society!
After all, someone like him, with only a tiny bit of "talent," who feared the dangers and bizarre horrors of the mystical side and dared not venture further, had actually been deemed an excellent intelligence gatherer by the president and appointed head of the Cloak Society in South Los. He had merely done his job.
He could hardly be called outstanding.
Just now, for instance, after processing the footage received during the day involving the Medium, the Blood Scion, and the grand duke's Consultant, Langbain was ready to clock out.
Nine to five, without weekends off, day after day.
"Keep an eye on things here. Let me know if anything happens."
Publicly an art enthusiast with some skill in painting and sculpture, Langbain gave these instructions to his deputy as he left the base at 94 Clara Street. This deputy had been recommended by a senior member of the Cloak Society. Langbain had not refused, nor had he wanted to.
Compared with the Cloak Society's sordid scheming, he much preferred